Wood, Richard. "Review of Antony and Cleopatra by
William Shakespeare, performed at the Royal Exchange Theatre, Manchester, 29
March 2005". Early Modern Literary Studies 11.1 (May, 2005) 18.1-5<URL:
http://purl.oclc.org/emls/11-1/revrwant.html>.

Following the recent success of Greg Hersov's production of Ben Jonson's
Volpone without Sir Politic and Madam Would-be, also for the Royal Exchange
Theatre, Braham Murray offers a new Antony and Cleopatra minus Pompey
and his retinue. Although such drastic cuts allow for a rattling pace, which
brings the action to a close after an apparently brief three hours, they also
create several problems for the sense of the play. Members of the audience
navigating their way through the play's complex political landscape for the
first time are aided by informative tracts on Roman history displayed on the
walls for interval reading. Nevertheless, lessons in history cannot fill the
gap left in the presentation of Shakespeare's characters (especially that
of Antony) by the omission of those key scenes from Act Two.

Before the action begins, melancholy North African music signals both the
exoticism of Cleopatra's court and the tragedy that is to unfold. The production
itself opens with Antony and Cleopatra making love on a pedestal dominated
by an oversized scarab; the proximity of the scarab (the dung beetle of Egyptian
art and myth) highlights the lovers' tragic fate from the outset. Designer
Johanna Bryant's simple but effective set has an Egyptian court, denoted by
familiar golden iconography, standing opposite silvered pillars of Rome. A
stone floor, engraved with both Egyptian hieroglyphs and Roman numerals, occupies
the ground (and sometime sea) between them.

In the round space of the Royal Exchange such a setting might imply a play
equally divided, both literally and figuratively, between Egypt and Rome.
Yet, in no small part due to the absence of Pompey, Murray's production loads
the Egyptian side of the dramatic equation to the detriment of the play as
a whole. Without Pompey, not only is the necessity of Antony's departure from
Egypt obscured, but also much of the play's use of the peculiar nature of
Roman honour - typified by Pompey's rebuke to Menas, ''Tis not my profit that
does lead mine honour; / Mine honour, it' - is lost. In this production, Antony
begins as more 'strumpet's fool' than 'triple pillar of the world', and although
Tom Mannion's performance is subtle and multifaceted, he struggles to convey
any sense of the warrior so important to Octavius Caesar. The battle scene,
dimly lit yet sharply choreographed, does however create a real sense of menace,
not least for the front row of the audience, for whom any temptation to stretch
their legs must be resisted. The actors' precise control of their weapons
is matched by their wielding of synchronised oars, as the round floor becomes
the stormy Mediterranean.

Tilting the balance of the production even further towards the African shore
of this dividing sea, the seductive portrayals of Shakespeare's Egyptians
steal the show. A notable highlight comes early on, when Sarah Paul's Charmian
and Gugu Mbatha-Raw's Iras interrogate the shamanic Soothsayer (Everal A.
Walsh) about their fortunes, drawing out every last inch of bawdy laughter
before being interrupted by Cleopatra's entrance. Indeed, this production
is both halted and driven forward by Josette Bushell-Mingo's Cleopatra: she
sets the pace. Much as the vagaries of Cleopatra's emotions entrance Mannion's
Antony, so Bushell-Mingo dictates the dramatic intensity of the scenes in
which she appears. Her Cleopatra is by turns achingly sensual and dangerously
enraged, but always eerily centred; hers is the most physically and psychologically
appealing performance, achieved without affectation or accessory; even the
asp is barely visible.

Unfortunately, the Romans, whether enjoying the decadence of a savoured
cheroot in Egypt or the smoke-free asceticism of Rome, appear bound by the
very buckles on their peculiar boots. And, although this provides a workable
contrast with the barefoot liberty of the Egyptians, the performances often
also appear unnecessarily leaden in their delivery. Apart from the scene immediately
before his death, when Antony scorns Roman attire, and the arrival of the
relatively sprightly and youthful Octavius (Steven Robertson) at the scene
of the Egyptian queen's demise, the Romans never approach the energy necessary
to complement that of Bushell-Mingo's Cleopatra. Ultimately, this Royal Exchange
production leaves its audience with the impression of a solitary performance
of a solitary queen.

Responses to this piece intended for the
Readers' Forum may be sent to the Editor at M.Steggle@shu.ac.uk.